


Missing

by Blackness



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rings, hurt!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:50:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6009189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackness/pseuds/Blackness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur should have been home three days ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing

**Author's Note:**

> As I am not a native English speaker, please tell me about mistakes in spelling, grammar etc. so I can improve my writing!  
> Enjoy :)

Arthur does not come back in time from his latest job in Berlin. Arthur runs more than a few hours late - which would be worrying enough, considering it is Arthur - but it Is not just hours, it has been almost three days.

Eames has been on edge these three days. He is pacing his London apartment, making calls, coming up with nothing and going back to pacing again. He feels sick to his stomach, thinking of Arthur lying in a dirty alley in the middle of Germany, bleeding out from a gunshot wound. A knock at his door breaks the silence and before Eames can properly process what he is doing, he tears it open.

“Arthur.” 

It’s barely a whisper. His partner is standing right before him, giving an annoyed huff at Eames jerking the door open like this. He looks exhausted; dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumped, PASIV in hand but no signs of his travel bag. His gun is missing and he is favoring his left side. He falls forward, slumping against Eames strong chest, eyes closed.

“You had me quiet worried, darling.”

He circles arms around Arthur, pressing him up against him.

“Don’t call me that.”

His voice sounds painfully hoarse, nothing more than a weak murmur and Eames presses him even tighter against himself. He feels relieved, almost at ease - that is, until Arthur gives a wince, hand flying to his left side. Eames lets go immediately, sees red coating the normally white dress shirt as Arthur’s hand comes away bloody. His stomach is turning furiously as Arthur becomes paler by the second.

“Fuck.” 

“Wise words Mr. Eames.”

Arthur gives a tired smile the moment his knees are starting to buckle. Eames grasps his arm and holds him up before he can fall down. He feels his heart hammering against his ribcage as he gently lowers Arthur onto the couch. His breath is labored, eyes closed, lines of pain showing on his ashen face.

“Let me see.”

He is crouching down next to the couch, tearing open Arthur’s shirt. Pulling the sodden fabric away from Arthur’s skin, Eames sees dark, red blood is oozing out, slowly becoming a worrying amount. The edges of the wound look swollen and infected, but not too badly. The sickening feeling in Eames’ guts lessens a bit. 

“ ‘s not tha’… bad.”

Lair, Eames thinks. Arthur’s voice is slurred and he sounds as if he has trouble finding the right words. Blood loss? Exhausting? Probably a mixture of both. He gets the first aid kit from the bathroom, drags out what he needs, just picking up an extraction tool when Arthur grips his hand firmly. His hand feels like ice on Eames’ skin.

“I already removed it.”

Cold brown eyes hold his gaze steadily, despite Arthur quickly losing the battle against unconsciousness.

“Alright.” 

Eames lowers the tools and instead starts dabbing at the wound in antiseptic. He makes a mental note to call up Yusuf later for some antibiotics. Arthur grits his teeth hard while Eames is at work, keeping silent most of the time. At some point he slides down on the couch into a more horizontal position, looking exhausted beyond his limits. Eames lets him rest while he is trying to stop the blood flow. When he is finally finished dressing the wound, Arthur is barely conscious.

“Think you can manage to get to bed, darling?”

Arthur’s eyes crack open, tiredly staring up at him, but makes an attempt to get up. Once upright he sways dangerously, so Eames opts to put an arm around him. He tucks Arthur in and makes him swallow some pain killers. Nothing strong, but it will have to do for now. The other is asleep almost instantly while Eames’ heart hammers against his ribcage. He drags trembling fingers through his hair.

“Don’t ever scare me like this again.” 

It is scary sometimes – how much he loves Arthur. His perfectionist, annoying and always too serious Arthur.

He cleans up a bit, putting everything away, hiding the PASIV under a lose floor board. Turning off the light in the living room he goes to check up on Arthur. Then, Eames changes into clothes that are not blood stained. He will have to burn them later, make sure to not leave any evidence, even if this is HIS flat.

“Eames?”

He almost doesn’t hear it. Arthur is lying on his side, watching him. His hand slowly reaches out to him and Eames takes it, running his thump over the back of the others icy hand. He tries to hide how on edge he actually feels.

“I lost it.”

Eames is stunned silent, a vacuum of silence in his head.

“Sorry, what?”

“My ring.”

Eames’ eyes fall on the plain silver ring on his finger. They never had a wedding. Some day he had just bought them. At first as a joke between occasional fuck-buddies – Arthur being Arthur, loudly exclaiming how stupid and childish something like that was. It had all become serious very quickly after that. Nowadays they would always carry the rings around – Arthur never wore his on his hand, he normally kept it on a necklace, carefully hidden beneath the collar of expensive shirts. The necklace was gone now. Eames had not noticed it was missing when he undressed Arthur.

“It’s okay darling.” 

He forces a smile. Arthur reaches up to him, caressing his cheek.

“It’s not.”

He is deathly pale, his fingers trembling against Eames’ warm skin. He gently takes the icy hand and guides it down, holding it between both of his.

“I don’t care, darling. You’re alive, that's all that matters to me.”

Arthur huffs a smile, obviously not believing him. Then his eyes are drifting shut and his breathing evens out. Eames climbs into bed behind him, holding him close. Tomorrow he will have to go ring shopping.


End file.
